


Chilled

by SilyaBeeodess



Series: Tales of the Fire Spirits [3]
Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22417009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilyaBeeodess/pseuds/SilyaBeeodess
Summary: Looking for an ideal plot to conduct their ritual in a not-so ideal Subcon, a group of fire spirits run into a mysterious being they've never seen in the forest before.
Series: Tales of the Fire Spirits [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1613302
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	Chilled

It was that time again. The aged fire spirit could feel it in the marrow of their bones—creaking and crackling inside its body like branches burning in a roaring fire that, day by day, became increasingly more difficult to maintain. Its skin shown bright from the excessive heat that had built from within over the course of its lifespan, and soon it would join its kind in the seasonal dances that marked the beginning and end of their cycles.

Near the end of their lives, fire spirits sought out safe havens away from their domain: Prime locations to build the ritual fires that could stay lit for days at a time. Then, once the dances began, they couldn't be stopped. Elder spirits would twist and turn around the flames in graceful unison, and it was up to the young to find plenty to burn over the course of the ritual; enough to create a crescendo of fire for the elders to catch upon as they themselves burst into flame.

Safety wasn't a primary concern, not for the spirits at least. The natural barriers that were summoned during their dance would keep most threats at bay. The fires alone were the most important part: They typically needed a good, dry spot to grow and plenty around to continuously feed them. Building them in a nice, dark place was also commonly ideal so that they'd only shine brighter against their surroundings. What a beautiful thing it was, to meet the end in an erupting pillar of warm light!

The fire spirit journeyed with a small group of its kin to find their own spot. Unfortunately, much of Subcon had changed in the creature's current cycle. Ice and snow had devoured a large portion of the forest, greatly limiting their kind's options in their wide exploration to prepare for the ritual. Too much of the land was cold and wet and not at all to a fire spirit's liking: They were miserable places with little to burn. Some spirits had even begun to explore beyond the forest in hopes of finding ideal territory.

It hoped, in its next cycle, that Subcon would undergo another great change—one for the better. It missed the funny humans they used to pick on for laughs, and the villagers that would give them plenty of goodies. It missed when the forest was bright and full of life, with plenty of things to burn. Their kind would survive—the young were already finding new ways—but it was still upsetting.

As the spirit and its kindred wove through the trees, a cluster of ice crystals jutting out of the earth caught its eye. They made an effort to avoid the ice and snow, but it was impossible. It appeared all over the forest, especially in the portion they travelled near now. The creature felt itself flare up as it gazed hard in the direction beyond the crystals, where the ice continued to expand. If they followed along that path, they'd eventually run into the origins of their current predicament. In recent years, the fire spirits had been known to treat _that_ place with caution: Oh, how they had come to _hate_ it. If it weren't for the powerful, frigid magic keeping their own at bay—combined with the cold and sodden landscape—they would've _torched_ the place.

But there was nothing they could do, not with nature against them and in their weakened states. One of the other spirits placed a hand on its back as if to console it and urge it onward. The creature nodded. Right, no use dwelling on what they couldn't change. And they had their search to complete. The group continued.

The night air made its fur bristle, although there was little indication between night and day anymore. A dark miasma had clung to the area, another unfortunate change to their once lovely home. For humans, it was nearly impossible to tell the difference when clouds fell over the forest, without the travel of the moon and stars to indicate the passage of time. The fire spirits could still tell though, if only by the shifts in temperature that marked the seasons and—more subtly—the hours.

However, that night was strikingly clear. The fire spirit couldn't resist lifting its eyes up at the full moon at hung in the sky. Its light almost always felt cold anymore, just like everything else, but it still shone vibrantly…

All of a sudden, the creature's ears perked up. Out of nowhere, it sensed a sudden warmth appear along the bleak landscape. All of them did, each fire spirit stopping in their tracks at the feeling. It was the sort that they only knew to come from a rare handful of the Dwellers anymore, or even less so from a small amount of the already pitiful number of travelers that occasionally braved the forest. And _never_ did they sense something like this so close to the manor. It had all of them on edge.

But that particular fire spirit also felt something strangely _familiar_ about that warmth, like something from a dream or distant memory. The feeling called to it so much that the spirit couldn't resist moving hesitantly _toward_ the heat spike—stopping once to flick its feet in discontent at the chilly, moist dirt that sunk between its toes and then darting off deeper into the woods.

It hadn't meant for the others to follow, but they did. They were stronger together anyway.

The sensation led them to a small patch of open field within the forest, where the leafless, craggily trees framed the sky like a wreath of thorns. Amid the ice pillars and crisp remains of dead undergrowth, a single figure hovered above the earth, staring up at the sky. It was… relatively human in form, spectral, male; dressed in a pale, yellow tunic and red jacket faded from grime and excessive wear with broken chains strapped to his wrists. His skin was as faint a blue as the ice that surrounded him, and he seemed to be wearing a mask that crescented around the right half of his face.

There was no way they could hide from him even if they tried: The light emitting from their bodies was too distinct from the shadows and he spotted them almost as soon as they entered the area. Recoiling in surprise, he shuffled back. The fire spirit approached a few steps after him in turn only to realize that the others had retreated the other way. There was little question why though: For the warmth they felt coming from him, it also came with a confusing mix of other feelings all too similar to the darkened state of the forest itself.

All the same, the familiarity was jarring. Even the appearance of the phantom seemed to mock the creature, but it still couldn't recall why. Multiple cycles of memories had ways of overlapping, but mature fire spirits could pick apart some of them enough to string together important aspects of their lives. It _knew_ the figure was important… somehow…

The fox tried to get closer, but stopped short—fur bristling—as the man dipped into an aggressive stance with strange, red cords manifesting from his wrists, contorting in uncontrollable lashes. In turn, light flames flickered along the spirit's hide in warning. As curious as the creature was, if the phantom was foolish enough to challenge its fire, by all means, let him try. Whatever odd power he possessed, it was clear he had little mastery of it and there were few things that could best the creature's own magic.

A realization that seemed to dawn on him soon enough as he steadied himself. The spirit followed suit, but continued to approach the former with a careful tread. Sizing up to a small, adult human with the specter hovering in the air, the fire spirit measured to the other being's chest. Reluctance continuously hanging between the two, it sniffed his hand then—feeling him tense as it did so—placed its head against his palm.

The action barely lasted longer than a second. _Cold!_ He was too cold! The fire spirit may as well have stuck its head in the snow! It jumped back in disgust as it eyed the phantom with confusion. Sparks licked at its feet, fiery enough to ignite the somewhat damp undergrowth and create a nice—if sadly shallow—bed of fire for it to stand in. The man flinched, but besides that showed no sign of being startled. Instead, he seemed to look at his own hand in dismay.

The fire spirit couldn't figure it out. How could a being that echoed such a familiar, peculiar warmth be so horribly cold? What was this creature? Not like the lost souls that roamed Subcon, surely: Although their mortal bodies were lost and even the warmth of many of their individual essences had altered, none of them came close to the enigma that was this one.

As if drawn to the flames, at last the phantom calmed enough to near the fire spirit this time—briefly circling with his own curiosity before he came to rest. Although the fox's chest puffed confidently at the admiration of the fire, it pitied this being. His whole existence seemed to be a sad, puzzling self-contradiction.

For the third time, the fire spirit moved closer to him. If he could not warm himself, then maybe it could grant him just a moment's comfort. It twisted itself around the phantom's body, tail curling around his waist and head pressing against his skin—though, even prepared, the creature still _writhed_ at the nasty cold seeping from the other.

The phantom looked at the fox for a long time. And then he began to laugh—an empty, sorrowful, unhinged laugh—that shook his entire body. The spirit's ears pinned back, but it didn't leave his side, even as its kin rounded closer to watch over the scene. Encouraged, still shivering, the phantom looked the spirit in the eye and gave him a solemn shake of his head:

"I'm afraid you're too late, my friend."


End file.
